


further down and darker

by tiend



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Heel Face Turn, brother killing witches, these mean streets, wrong jedi arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-24 15:12:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15633270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiend/pseuds/tiend
Summary: Ahsoka walks down the stairs from the Jedi Temple and off the map. Captain Rex can't let her disappear, even if her chosen refuge is with someone he hates.





	further down and darker

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jen425](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jen425/gifts).



Rex lays out the various contraband on his bunk, and begins to sort it. Credit chips—yes. Alcohol—no. Kix’s medical stash? Absolutely. Five’s xenosmut starter kit for shinies? Absolutely not. He’d gotten Jesse to put the word out for him back on the Resolute: Commander Tano’s gone. She’s left the Jedi, and now she doesn’t have anything, not even her lightsabers. The 501st has come through for her, giving up their caches so she’s not left with nothing. It’s not much—they’re clones—but it’s what they have.

Even Cody can’t tell him if she’s still in the GAR. If she’d be allowed to come back, if everything could be fixed and go back to the way it was, before she was arrested. Before he called the APB.

A sharp rap on the doorframe distracts him. It’s a brother in orange and grey, head tilted to one side, watching. So much for his situational awareness.

“Rex?” says the strange ARC. “From Fives, for the kid.” He holds out a small bag, and tosses it across the room. It’s heavier than Rex expected.

“Thank you.” He’d hoped Fives would get his message in time and call in some favours. Fives knows everyone, but he ran dark a lot these days. “I’ll make sure it gets to her.”

“The commlink in there,” says the strange ARC. “It’s clean. Two numbers on it. First is Fives. Second can set her up with new ID.”

“Thanks,” says Rex. “She’ll be very grateful.” 

The ARC shrugs. “No problem. Tell the kid good luck. Rough deal.” He unwinds himself from the door frame and disappears.

The pouch contains more anonymous credit chips, in higher denominations than most of the 501st’s stash. Some blank IDs, waiting for the forger to add Commander Tano’s details. Lastly, the commlink. Rex glares at it. It’s not like he has an untraceable number. He’d only be compromising her safety if he added his. 

He refills the ARC’s bag and tucks it down carefully inside one kama. If it gets lifted between here and if—when—he finds her, he’ll never forgive himself, especially not with those blank IDs. They’re worth their weight in kyber. Rex comms General Skywalker again—still no answer—and puts away the debris across his bunk before he realises he’s stalling and makes himself leave the barracks. 

Back down the levels, to stroll around conspicuously in his armour, and hope he’s guessed right, and is making a big enough target of himself. But—she’d just gone. Out of the temple and off the map. Disappeared. She couldn’t just do that. If he’d just jumped after Commander Tano he wouldn’t be so afraid he’d never find her now. What if she never came back? 

Ventress is the only lead he has. Rex would prefer to wring her skinny neck than ask her for help… but no one had died yesterday. Wolffe’s face when he’d regained consciousness and seen the rest of the Wolfpack safe in the recovery suite.

So Rex stands, and strolls, and nods to the street vendors, awkwardly and obviously, and hopes it will be enough. The dirty white of his armour is the cleanest thing down here.

The aleen sidles up to him. “You waiting for someone, boss?”

“No,” says Rex curtly. 

“So snippy,” says the aleen, giggling, and Rex can’t stop himself from jolting with surprise. Enough for someone unfamiliar with human body language to notice. The small alien is standing well out of his reach, watching him carefully. He has no doubt that if he tried to grab for her, she’d disappear down some nook too small for humans.

“What if I am?” 

“Then you come this way, boss.” The aleen trots off, careful never to let him get too close.

He follows the aleen down a tangle of corroding stairwells and alleyways that sparkle with broken glass, a maze of firing angles. He could easily get a vibroblade to the back of the knee and never get topside again. The silence weighs on him as they descend another half-level, cutting through what might have been a storm drain and into the shell of another residential stack, hollow and lined with ramshackle apartments.

She leads him to an anonymous door on the fifth level, and leaves him there, snatching the credit chip out of the air and scuttling away. Suddenly Rex is standing outside it, alone, and Commander Tano might be on the other side. It’s a couple of seconds before he can make himself knock.

Ventress opens the door. She looks as pleased to see him as he is to see her.

“Please come in. We’ve been expecting you,” she says. Her habitual elegance is somehow perverse in these shabby surroundings.

It’s a small room, barely bigger than his own quarters on the Resolute. The biolumes are sickly, although there are a couple of struggling plants under them. Neon lights shine through the windows—someone can’t deal with not being able to see out. Or wants another exit. Both are plausible. 

Commander Tano—Ahsoka is huddled up under a scratchy blanket on the narrow bed. Ventress stands between her and Rex, almost protectively.

“Rex!” cries Ahsoka, her eyes huge. Did she think he wouldn’t come after her? That they’d just let her go? “I didn’t, Rex, I didn’t do it!” 

“Do take your helmet off. Such a shame to cover your handsome face,” Ventress says, interrupting before he can ask what’s wrong. Rex turns his head briefly away from Ahsoka to glare so intensely at Ventress it should burn. Even through his helmet. Ahsoka, incredibly, manages a smile. What’s one more bad decision? Rex removes his helmet, and sets it on the wobbly table.

“Ahsoka here is worried you might think she was responsible for the mysterious deaths of those unfortunate prison guards,” Ventress explains, shifting her weight forward. Defensively; he recognises the stance. 

“I—of course not,” Rex stammers, cursing himself for not rehearsing something better. Fox had said—but Fox doesn’t know Commander Tano. “We don’t—you would never—this is for you.”

Ahsoka ignores the proffered bag, just as she ignores his speeder salesman pitch about the commlink. He would be jealous of Fives, but then she launches herself forward and throws her arms around his neck, putting her face on his shoulder. Somewhere between the press of her against his plates—damn Ventress, her presence as constricting as his armor—he makes a thousand mental notes to find a commlink of his own.

Rex isn’t sure what he’s expecting Ahsoka to say next, but it’s not, “Can you contact Padmé for me?”

He unwraps Ahsoka’s arms and pushes himself back, holding her long fingers in his gloved hands. This is deadly serious, but he can’t quite make himself let her go. Not now.

“What kind of trouble has she gotten you into?” 

“It’s not like that—”

Then he sees the one proprietary hand lying on Ahsoka’s shoulder, steadying her, as if Commander Tano needs the help. Needs help from _Ventress_. 

“Rex, please,” says Ahsoka. “I promised her something if she helped me, and I—I need to keep my word. It’s important.”

Of course Ahsoka wants to do the right thing, and he’s selfishly glad it’d mean he’d have to stay in contact. But for Ventress? Rex cracks his knuckles against his vambraces before he knows what he’s doing. Bounty hunter, Separatist scum, ex-Sith—what’s the difference?

“The sooner it’s done, the sooner you can find some better company,” he says, not quite a question. Ahsoka needs to get clear of whatever the witch is extorting her for as soon as possible. Hostage negotiations on Kamino could be just as aggressive as Skywalker’s and he’s a bit surprised Ahsoka’s already forgotten those lessons. 

“Ventress has been kind to me,” says Ahsoka. Her jaw sets stubbornly. He’s almost glad to see it, but— 

“Kind,” Rex says flatly. Surely Ahsoka remembers. What happened on Teth was not kind. Not losing his entire command, or the gritty slick of Ventress inside his head. The witch isn’t kind. No unit gets away from her without losing brothers. Or worse, like Slick. Sent back to Kamino, so they could vivisect him to see how she’d twisted him up inside.

“Everything’s turned upside down,” Ahsoka says, softening. “We’re not the same.” 

If the Jedi High Council could hand her over to Tarkin’s firing squads, or Commander Offee could turn to murder, maybe Ventress could have learnt to be kind. He flicks a glance over to the witch, considering.

Ventress crosses her arms. “I wouldn’t make the same choices that I did that day.” It’s not an apology, but she’s forcing it up and onto the floor all the same. 

He’s not in the mood to bend down and take it. Ahsoka even does him the favor of kicking it aside. “Rex, she needs a pardon. Padme’s her only hope.” 

They’re not giving those out like medals to a shiny these days. She’d have more luck trying to convince a Hutt to turn to good works and charity.

But he can do her one better. “I’ll take you up to 500 Republica myself.” 

Ahsoka wraps her arms around herself and shakes her head like it was an uncomfortable suggestion. “No, Rex. Not now. It’s … it’s just—”

“Sometimes it’s better not to be alone,” says Ventress, her expression faintly surprised, as if she can’t believe what she’s saying either.

Alone? She’d be with brothers. She’d be with him. She may not feel very welcome in the Grand Army—he owes the 104th so many drinks, the Corries could get fucked—but the day Commander Tano didn’t feel she had a home with the 501st was one he’d never prepared for. Seps could be ramming their capital ships into Coruscant and he wouldn’t feel half so crushed. 

“I don’t understand.” Not something to be admitted lightly. Every new plate upgrade, he used to feel like the armour was swallowing him; he wanted it to now. 

“I need you to trust me,” Ahsoka says, emphatically, folding in on herself with the words like she’s holding herself back from him. Like it’s her that doesn’t trust him.

There’s nothing else to do but nod. She’s in enough pieces as it is and … finding comfort in someone else’s raw edges. Doesn’t she know how raw he is?

“Right,” Ahsoka sighs, unwinding a little as she addresses Ventress. “Your network came through; now maybe mine can do the same.” 

Ventress shrugs. “They’ve been spotting the Corries for years. He’s just a variation. Blue, with tooka ears on the helmet.”

“ _Jaig eyes_ ,” he corrects her. 

“Most of them have barely seen the sky, let alone a jaig hawk. Or someone brave enough to win the right to wear jaig eyes.”

Somehow she’s right next to him, inside his guard, while he fumbles with the compliment. All those years of training, and he just let the witch get close enough to reach out and touch—no, she’s kriffing caressing the line of his jaw. 

He must be bleeding out in the Force, and she’s drawn to it, like kreetles to a kill. Is this the kindness that ensnared Slick, and now Ahsoka too? He lurches under the witch’s thin hand. Ahsoka never intended to come back up with him, no matter how much he’d hoped—he knows he’d let himself hope far too much. Even if he’s only part of her network—and a clone, at that—he can do this for her. No point in crying over what he never had. Get the mission done. 

Rex replaces his bucket, not minding Ventress’s fingers, and stalks to the door.

“Commander Tano,” he says, nodding at her, retreating into formality. “I’ll be in contact.”

Her lips part, but she doesn’t say anything. He can’t just—

“Look after her,” he orders Ventress. Tries not to snarl, really. He doesn’t quite succeed. 

Ventress’ mouth curls up at one corner. “Oh, I will,” she purrs, before her face changes, and she shuts the door in his face with a definite click.

Rex is half way back topside before he recognises the final expression on Ventress’s face. It had been pity.


End file.
